


The Truth Is You Should Lie With Me

by authorindented



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 04:29:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16847152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authorindented/pseuds/authorindented
Summary: Baz is in love with the Chosen One, whooptido. But could the Chosen One actually love him back?Oneshot, canonverse, SnowBaz. Implied sex but nothing explicit.





	The Truth Is You Should Lie With Me

The Truth Is, You Should Lie With Me

  
“When you burn in hell, they remind you of all the things you screwed up in this life. I’ll be one of them, if you’re inclined to.”

 

  
Baz could feel the intensity of the glare Simon Snow was giving him even if he was a million miles away. Simon was always like that—intense. His presence naturally drew your eye, though there wasn’t anything especially eye-catching about him. Perfectly ordinary chestnut curls, dangling lackadaisically just long enough to get in his eyes. Blue eyes, those damned blue eyes. Not a thing special about them, and yet Baz could feel them boring holes into the back of his head at any given time. He was on the field, wiping sweat from his brow as the practice game ended. He’d pulled up his shirt, using the hem to wick the moisture, but he angled his torso towards Snow. Hell, if Baz had figured out his feelings for the Chosen One™ through lust, then maybe Snow might come to the same conclusion. Of course, that was likely all wishful thinking on Baz’s part. Snow had his perfect, beautiful girlfriend, and he wasn’t going to give that up simply because his sworn enemy had abs. Still, Baz watched out of the corner of his eye as he dropped his shirt, relishing the uncharacteristically embarrassed stare Simon was giving him. He flashed a none too subtle smirk at the boy before brushing past him, heading to his room. Their room.  
When he stepped out of the bathroom, towel snug around his waist, Baz was surprised to find Simon there waiting for him. He looked angry. “What have I done now, Snow?” Baz prompted, sounding disinterested at best. “Consorted with the devil? Sacrificed a virgin? Gone too long without giving you attention?”  
Simon scowled and pushed Baz against the door. “Why are you skipping meals?” he demanded, eyes scouring my face. “I know you’re up to something, you monster.”  
Baz wanted to offer up a witty, sardonic retort, but Simon’s hands were on his chest and his face was only inches away and how many times had he had a sexual daydream that started out just like this? He was gonna lose it, right here and now, and there’d be no going back. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Penny chose that moment to come barging in. Baz had known for a while now that she could get in undetected, but he hadn’t wanted Simon to know he knew. If Simon knew, then he’d expect Baz to turn her in, and Baz had no intention of doing so. That would hurt Simon, so he’d played dumb, even when he could smell her all over his sheets. Now what was he going to do?  
Penny looked from Simon to Baz and back, taking in the scene. At the sight of her, Simon released his roommate and stumbled back. “Penny,” he gasped.  
Always quick on her feet, Penny instantly proffered an explanation for her mysterious presence. “Simon, thank god! The Mage sent me. He needs to see you immediately. Something’s wrong.”  
Baz breathed a sigh of relief, though it came out sounding more like a snide scoff. Before he’d realized his feelings for the Chosen One™ he’d have poked holes in Bunce’s story, dismantling the life raft piece by piece, but now that he was a stowaway, he was eternally grateful. “Have fun cleaning up whatever mess that imbecile has made now,” he sneered, stepping confidently toward his closet and hoping that the pair of them would beeline for the door instead of looking a gift horse in the mouth.  
“I, uh, that,” Simon sputtered.  
“Come on, Simon,” his friend exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to the door.  
“We’re not done here, Baz,” he shouted before disappearing from Baz’s periphery.  
The vampire sighed and leaned back against his wardrobe, shirt in hand. Simon had noticed he wasn’t eating. He knew Simon watched him, paid attention o him, borderline stalked him—because he believed Baz was up to no good. And that was fair; Baz would be the first to admit that he was far from good. Still, was that underlying concern he’d heard in the question? Or was he imagining things, his heart desperate for something, for anything? Either way, the stare Simon had given him, the way he’d pushed a mostly naked Baz against the wall, the faintest possibility of reciprocated feelings, it all made Baz a bit too distracted to put on clothes just yet. Instead, he climbed into bed and let out some of his pent-up frustration.  
He awoke hours later, startled to find Simon perched on the edge of his own bed, staring at him. Baz had hardly moved, and Simon didn’t seem to notice that the vampire was awake. He was lost in thought, apparently, as he gazed at Baz’s exposed chest. Baz knew he’d lost weight since he’d stopped eating in front of other people, and he knew his ribs were more pronounced than usual—but he’d never expected Simon to notice or care. It seemed to be weighing heavily on his mind, though. “Too thin,” he mumbled, his voice soft. “Why are you so thin, Baz?”  
Afraid he’d make a face unintentionally, Baz casually rolled over, away from Simon and onto his stomach. Unfortunately, in his effort to make it look legitimate, the covers slipped lower, exposing the majority of his ass to an unsuspecting Simon Snow. Baz mentally cursed himself, nearly missing the way Simon’s breath hitched. He waited, silence stretching out for an eternity, listening for some sign that the noise hadn’t merely been his overactive imagination. The bed squeaked a little, indicating that the boy with soft chestnut hair and perfect blue eyes and golden skin had gotten up—Baz shushed the little voice inside his head as it suggested that Simon might get into bed with him. Sheer lunacy. Simon had his untouchable relationship with his impeccable girlfriend, his dependence on his emotional support witch, and his inexplicable attachment to his father-figure; the only role left for Baz was the antagonist. He was destined to be Snow’s mortal (debatably) enemy, through and through. Who climbs into bed to cuddle with their nemesis? Certainly not the Chosen One™.  
The touch was so gentle that at first Baz was sure he’d imagined it. A feather-light graze of warm fingertips along the cool skin of his back, down down down. When he felt Snow grab the sheets and pull them up, covering up his pseudo-sleeping roommate, though, he knew the boy had touched him. Had caressed him. If only for just a second. And not in a lecherous way. Still, it was too much for Baz to bear. He tensed, and Simon dropped the blanket, backing away. The tension hung thick in the air, with Simon waiting to see if Baz was awake. The vampire knew he only had two choices, but that didn’t make his decision any easier. Should he keep pretending to sleep? That would be the simplest solution, certainly. Should he say something to Snow? Was there a magical combination of words that would end up with Simon snuggling his rival in bed? It seemed unlikely, but the possibility rendered Baz incapable of keeping his stupid mouth shut.  
“Do you tuck all your nemeses into bed, Snow?” he inquired, rolling over and sitting up. The blanket pooled in his lap, and when he glanced at Simon, anticipating anger or confusion on the boy’s face, he was surprised to see him staring at Baz’s lap, eyes full of fear.  
“I, uh,” he stammered. “Can we talk about this after you put on pants?”  
Baz smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Why? Am I distracting you?”  
“No!” Simon shouted, a bit too dramatically.  
Baz ran his hand through his hair, letting it fall slightly into his face. He could see Simon blushing, but he could also feel the magic in him trying to come out. He didn’t want Simon to go off, so he magicked on some pajama bottoms. “There,” he said. “You happy?”  
Simon didn’t say anything, still fuming and willing himself to calm down. He sat on his bed, less than two feet away, and avoided eye contact. “No,” he muttered, so quiet that Baz wasn’t even sure he’d heart it at all.  
“No?” he repeated, staring at Simon in confusion. That can’t have meant what he thought it meant.  
“No,” Simon announced, clearing his throat. “I’m not happy. Why are you so thin? Why aren’t you eating?”  
“Oh, we’re back on this, are we?” Baz snapped. The last thing he wanted to do was explain his recent social anxiety about eating in public, especially since he’d never admitted to being a vampire when Snow had cornered him about it. He wasn’t going to talk about the way his fangs popped out every time he ate, or the way that the sensation instantly made him self-conscious, even when he was alone.  
“I know you’re up to something,” Simon retorted half-heartedly. There was no malice in his eyes, only worry. He was going through the motions, it seemed. The vampire blinked, certain he was imagining things.  
“Yeah, yeah, let me know when you figure out what,” he said dismissively. “You’re thin too, you know.”  
“What?” the boy asked.  
“Stop looking for me when you should be eating. You look emaciated,” Baz chided. “Can’t very well finish you off in the final battle if you’re a corpse.”  
At the mention of the war, Simon’s face twisted. He was always so expressive, though it wasn’t easy to interpret what his gestures meant. He sighed and dropped his gaze. “Can we just pretend for five minutes that we’re not destined to kill each other?”  
“Why?” Baz asked, curious.  
“Because… Because, I don’t know,” Simon exclaimed, exasperated. “Because I don’t feel like a hero half of the time, and because you don’t act like a villain half of the time, and because I feel like we both just want to be normal sometimes. Not Normal normal, just regular old normal. Two magical roommates who don’t automatically hate each other.”  
Baz paused, then asked. “And what does that look like to you, Snow? What should we do?”  
“Well, you could call me Simon, for starters,” he mumbled. “And look, okay, I wanted to tuck you in because for one second, one measly second, I saw you as a person. A real, actual person who exists outside of politics and power struggles. A person who has told me on more than one occasion that they get cold with the windows open.”  
“I am a person, outside of all this,” Baz commented.  
“Me too, I think,” Simon replied. “At least I hope so.”  
“You are,” he assured the boy. “You’re a shameless loser who loves sour cherry scones and gets too excited about holidays.”  
To his surprise, Simon chuckled. “Yeah, and you’re an asshole who could land any girl he wanted, but prefers torturing me.”  
“I’m gay, actually,” Baz said. His voice was quiet, shy—not his usual cocky tone. He wasn’t sure why he’d admitted that out loud to Simon Snow of all people, and he was seconds away from casting a spell to make him forget, but then he spoke.  
“I…me too, kind of,” Simon mumbled. “Maybe. I’m not sure.”  
Baz nearly fell off the bed. “But your girlfriend,” he protested.  
“I said kind of!” Snow snapped, clearly embarrassed. “But I’ve been having these dreams lately.”  
“What kind of dreams?”  
“Um… Well, so, I love Agatha, I do,” Simon began warily. “I don’t deserve her, but… I keep dreaming about kissing someone else.”  
“A man?” Baz asked.  
“Yeah,” he said nervously.  
“Who? Is it someone you know?”  
“Um, yeah,” Simon Snow said. “It’s you.”  
Baz’s mind went blank. He felt his system powering down. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. He just stared at the blushing boy before him, desperation clawing away at his gut.  
“I was wondering, actually, um, if I could try kissing you,” Simon said. “To see what it’s like. To make the dreams stop.”  
Baz couldn’t help it. He reached across, putting his hand to Simon’s cheek, and kissed him. Soft, sweet, and oh-so perfect. Not a hint of the gnawing hunger, not a trace of the growing need—he didn’t want to scare Simon off with his feelings. But then Simon was pushing against me, was up off the bed and climbing into Baz’s lap, was wrapping his fingers in the vampire’s hair. And Baz lost it, lost what control he’d had. He clung to Simon, writhing against him with a ferocious need. His fangs popped out because of his enthusiasm, but Simon either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He pushed the dark-haired boy onto the bed and ground their bodies together, eliciting a gasp from the usually composed vampire. “Simon,” Baz moaned. “Simon.”  
“Ah, music to my ears,” he said playfully. Baz nipped on his ear, and Simon growled, deep and hungry like Baz had never head before. The sound woke something in Baz, and he flipped Simon over, pinning him beneath him. The boy gasped in surprise. His flushed face and wide eyes were so beautiful in the moonlight that Baz nearly felt his heart stop.  
“Simon,” he whispered, not looking away. His name was like a prayer, though for what Baz had not a clue. The boy wriggled underneath him, clearly embarrassed. “Simon, Simon, Simon.”  
“I think I’m in love with you,” the Chosen One™ blurted out, in a moment of pure unfiltered intimacy. He instantly clamped his mouth shut, turning his face away from the shocked gaze of the vampire.  
Baz leaned in, pressing his lips against Snow’s neck and up to his ear. “I think I’m in love with you too, Simon.” He shuddered against Baz and faced him once more. His wide eyes seemed to ask “really?” and Baz answered them. “Really, truly, honestly, deeply.”  
“Baz,” Simon murmured softly. Then, a few more kisses and some groping later, not so softly. Then not murmuring at all, but moaning, shouting, growling. The two of them fell asleep in each others’ arms, blissful and at peace.

Simon awoke first, the dawn drifting in through the open window. He snuggled against Baz, inhaling the scent of his hair and planting a kiss on his neck. Baz stirred and rolled over, blinking awake. Simon’s heart melted at the sight—a sleepy, disheveled Basilton, smirking at him from underneath the covers. His eyes, his mouth, his cheeks, his nose; Simon wanted to kiss every inch of him, and nearly had last night. He’d never felt that way about Agatha. Not that she wasn’t beautiful. Of course Agatha was stunning, but she was surreal. Ethereal. Baz was beautiful like the feeling you get when you’re at the top of the Ferris Wheel and you look down at the carnival below. He was real solid happiness personified, but Agatha was more like the woods at twilight. She never felt real to Simon. Then again, he supposed she was real, whether he saw her like that or not. He hadn’t even been thinking of her last night; she’d been so distant, and he’d been so busy, and lately they just hadn’t really been together. He’d been wondering if she’d stopped loving him, if she’d ever really loved him at all. Still, he realized, she hadn’t deserved what he’d done to her, what he’d done to their relationship last night. His face twisted in pain.  
“Hey, hey,” Baz said instantly, voice full of concern. “What’s wrong?”  
Simon winced at the softness of his voice, tears already welling up in his eyes. “Agatha.”  
Baz frowned. “Wellbelove? What about her?”  
“Oh my god,” Simon gasped, panic racing through him. “What have I done? Baz, this will crush her!”  
“She’s a big girl, Simon,” the vampire replied. “She can handle it.”  
Simon wasn’t listening. He was horrified with himself, with what he’d done, with how negligent he had been. His selfish impulses were directly going to cause someone pain, someone he cared about. “I’m supposed to be the good guy,” he whispered. “I’m the hero.”  
“Hey, you’re still the Chosen One™ remember? Nothing can change that,” Baz said, sensing how far off the rails Simon was going. He pulled the boy into an embrace, but Simon pushed him away. The vampire’s face became stone, his emotions closing themselves off protectively.  
“No, no, no, no,” Simon cried. “I didn’t do this, I couldn’t do this, I wouldn’t hurt someone.”  
Baz interjected, something in his voice causing Simon to freeze. “Do you regret it?”  
Simon Snow hesitated, and he watched the light in Baz’s eyes go out. “No,” he squeaked. “Of course I don’t regret it.”  
“Simon,” Baz said evenly. “I love you. I want to be with you. If you don’t want that, then…”  
“Baz,” he whispered, momentarily forgetting his pain and collapsing against the other boy with a sob. He thought about a life with Baz, about a future with the beautiful vampire, about trips to the beach and romantic picnics and domesticities made better together. That, though, was a fantasy. What Baz was saying, what he was really saying, was that they should be together in spite of the war, the Insidious Humdrum, the Mage, the families. Baz wanted to be with him while all of that was going on, while they were supposed to be mortal enemies, while they were destined to kill each other. Was he insane? He could imagine what Penny would have to say about this. What if she stopped being his friend because of it? And of course he’d lose Agatha too. Forever. It’s hard to be friends with your ex when your ex is a cheater who left you for his archnemesis.  
The flurry of negative emotions whipped wildly within him, stirring his magic up along with it. It was so painful to think about—he could either hurt Agatha or hurt Baz, screw up his relationships with everyone he cared about or screw up his romantic affiliation with Baz, disappoint the Mage and Baz’s parents simultaneously… Simon cried in Baz’s shoulder, not wanting to see anyone hurt. Baz’s eyes filled with worry as he recognized the signs.  
“Simon, Simon, hey, it’s gonna be okay,” he said, rubbing the boy’s arm. “Calm down.”  
But Simon Snow couldn’t calm down. He was a wreck, he was shaking, he was sobbing. His body couldn’t figure out where all this pain was coming from. Was he under attack? What was happening? Simon, in the midst of his panic attack, could only repeat to himself, “This shouldn’t have happened, this shouldn’t have happened, this shouldn’t have happened.” Over and over and over again, he mumbled the phrase. Then, suddenly, he found himself being woken up by a rough shake from his vial roommate. The villainous bastard was glaring down at him as he blinked into consciousness.  
“If you react this poorly to nightmares, you’re in for a rude awakening when the final battle comes,” Baz declared.  
“W-what?” Simon asked, confused. Usually he could remember his dreams, especially the nightmares.  
“C’mon, Snow. Up and at ‘em. Can’t have you blowing up my room over a bad dream.” Baz disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Simon alone to sort through the mess in his head.  
The Chosen One™ tossed off his covers, surprised to find himself in his own bed. He scrunched his brow. Of course he was in his own bed. Where else would he have slept? He couldn’t even remember falling asleep last night. He must have been exhausted. His brain was shrieking something unintelligible, urging him to remember—to remember what, though? Did he have a test today? Was it someone’s birthday? Maybe it was his and Agatha’s anniversary. At the thought of Agatha, a tear slid down his cheek. That was weird. He was still mulling over his scattered thoughts and the strange images flashing through his mind—was that Baz’s butt?—when his heinous roommate emerged from the bathroom. Simon’s eyes followed him around of their own accord, and Baz sneered at him.  
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he quipped, turning abruptly and letting his hair fall in his eyes.  
Simon had the urge to brush the locks out of his face and tuck them behind his ear, but the feeling dissipated before it could even take root. He shook his head, looking away from Baz. That’s all it was—fleeting, ephemeral.

**Author's Note:**

> Some things write themselves. I picked up a pen and woke up three hours later with a cramping hand and a bunch of pages of scribbles. Don't hate me for the ending, it's what my mischievous brain cooked up without my consent.  
> I don't know if you guys listen to Say Anything, but so many of their songs remind me of SnowBaz, especially from Baz's point of view. That's where I got the title and the quote from.


End file.
